The butler kept glancing over his shoulder as he made his way down the narrow, unlit alleys that wound away from the castle.
The moonlight barely touched these streets, and that suited him just fine.
His steps were quick, yet measured, the soft crunch of gravel beneath his polished boots sounding much louder in the quiet night than he liked.
He reached into his coat, feeling the cold metal key nestled there. It was the only thing that could open the reinforced door to his secret storage.
The place where months of quiet scheming had come to fruition.
Where enough food and supplies to outlast any famine lay neatly stacked, waiting for the day when desperation would make them worth their weight in gold.
His lips curled into a small, self-satisfied smirk. The fools in the castle—Lady Rose, her pompous guests, even the Grand Duchess—had no idea.
